Billionaire's Suite Deal

1. Ginger

GINGER

I never believed in miracles, not really.

But that was before a flimsy piece of paper, peppered with random numbers transformed my world from a grayscale palette of bill deadlines and school runs into a vivid kaleidoscope of dollar signs—forty million of them, to be precise. Forty. Million. Dollars.

Winning the lottery felt as far-fetched as discovering a unicorn prancing through a magical forest, yet here I was, staring at my new reality—phone in hand, lottery ticket stored safely away, and forty million reasons my heart threatened to burst from my chest.

"Mom, you're zoning out again," Karl's voice snapped me out of my stupor, his small hand waving before my eyes like a white flag in my battlefield of disbelief.

I blinked, forcing a smile. "Sorry, kiddo. Just thinking about... our future."

He grinned, a tiny white gap between his front teeth catching the light. "Does this mean I can get the new Space Defenders game?"

"Maybe even the console to play it on," I said. Karl's eyes widened, his small hands clapping together as he bounced on his toes. My chest tightened watching him—forty million dollars, and all he wanted was a video game that would have maxed out my credit card yesterday.

But the moment was fleeting. The cheer was swept away by the jarring vibration of my phone. I checked the screen and groaned dramatically.

"I need to take this call for a moment," I said to Karl, who nodded and continued his game, blissfully unaware of the conversation I was about to have.

"Ginger, it's Mark... Look, I know things haven't been easy between us—"

"Wow, your talent for understatement is impressive," I interrupted, lottery millions doing nothing to dull the sting of his betrayal. "Next you'll say the Titanic had 'a bit of trouble with ice' or that Pompeii experienced 'some volcanic activity'."

There was a pause and a scratchy breath. "I think, for Karl's sake, we should—"

"You mean for the sake of the forty-million dollars?" I cut in. "That's what this is really about, isn't it?"

His sigh crackled over the line. "Can't a man just care about his family?"

"We ceased being a family the day you traded our vows for late nights with your twenty-something assistant. Goodbye, Mark." I hung up, the finality in my voice stronger than I felt. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I walked back into the room where Karl was sitting.

"Was that Dad again?" Karl asked, looking up from his tablet. His eyes—too knowing for a seven-year-old—searched my face, his small shoulders already tense with unspoken worry.

"Yes, honey. He wanted to say hi." I ruffled his hair, stretching my lips into what felt like a grimace, muscles fighting against the motion. Karl's skeptical eyebrow told me he wasn't buying it.

"He wants your lottery money," he stated with such matter-of-fact clarity that I choked on my own spit.

"Out of the mouths of babes," I muttered, patting his head. "Anyway, we need a plan, partner. What do you think about... a vacation?"

Karl's eyes went supernova, his seven-year-old dreams instantly filled with mouse ears and roller coasters. "Disney World?!"

"Well, I was thinking somewhere with a bit fresher air and a bit less..." I twirled my hand, searching for the word.

"Mickey Mouse?"

"Yep," I pulled up my laptop. "What about a ski resort? You've never seen snow."

Karl wrinkled his nose. "Isn't that just glorified slush that rich people pay to fall down in?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Who taught you that?"

"Aunt Anna. She says ski resorts are where the one percent go to break bones expensively."

"Your aunt has too many opinions and not enough hobbies," I mumbled, but kept scrolling through the glossy images of snow-capped mountains and roaring fireplaces. "Look at this one, though. The Crystal Peak Resort. It looks magical."

Karl peered over my shoulder, his initial skepticism melting faster than a popsicle in July. "Whoa, do they have those sled things with the dogs?"

"Dog sledding? Probably." I clicked through more photos, each one sparkling with winter wonder. "And snowboarding, ice skating, hot chocolate by the fire..."

"I'm in," Karl declared, his allegiance shifting from Mickey to mountains in the blink of an eye. "When do we leave?"

"How does tomorrow sound?" I grinned, feeling lighter than I had in years.

"Tomorrow?!" Karl's jaw dropped comically. "Don't we need to like... plan and stuff?"

"That's the beauty of forty million dollars, kiddo. It buys you spontaneity." I find the most expensive suite and click 'Book Now' with a flourish that felt deliciously reckless. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

The universe seemed to laugh at my optimism.

The ski resort emerged from the mountainside like something carved by gods with expensive taste.

I shuffle across the heated marble floors, past men in cashmere sweaters and women whose diamond earrings caught the firelight.

My fingers trace the polished mahogany of the reception desk as pine-scented air mingled with the earthy aroma of burning logs.

My Target boots squeaking against the floor—a sound that might as well have been a foghorn announcing "new money.

" I tug at my department store jacket, wondering if I had removed the price tag.

"I booked online. The name is Lawson, Ginger Lawson," I inform Miss Shelby, the front desk receptionist, who typed rapidly, her smile never wavering.

"There seems to be a slight issue, Ms. Lawson. One moment, please," she said, her fingers hesitating over the keys.

"Problem?" I ask, the fringes of panic whispering at the back of my mind. This trip was supposed to be the fresh start I so desperately needed.

"Problem? I’m sure we can sort it out." The voice beside me was deep and edged with humor, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. "Let me see if I can help."

I turned to find a man whose confident stance owned every inch of space around him: six-foot-something of broad shoulders, professionally tousled dark hair, and eyes the exact shade of the Rocky Mountain sky.

He caught my glance and winked, the corner of his mouth curving upward in a way that made my pulse skip traitorously.

Before I could gather my thoughts, Miss Shelby cleared her throat, drawing our attention back to the situation at hand. "I’m afraid there’s been a booking error, Mr. Reed."

Mr. Reed turned to her, concern crossing his features. "What kind of error?"

"The Crystal Suite was double-booked," she explained, her fingers hesitating over the keyboard as she glanced between us.

"The Crystal Suite?" Mr. Reed and I spoke in unison. Our eyes met, his widening as mine narrowed.

"Yes." Miss Shelby’s manicured finger tapped nervously on the keyboard. "It seems the system booked it to both of you for the same dates."

Mr. Reed frowns, visibly taken aback. "It can't be. That is supposed to be my suite." He rubs the back of his neck, clearly annoyed. "This is ridiculous. But whatever, just put me in a different room."

Miss Shelby nodded apologetically. "Unfortunately, we're fully booked for the holiday season. It's peak time, and—"

"Let me guess," I interjected, cutting her off. "No other rooms available?"

He sighed, glancing at me with a mix of exasperation and understanding. "Is there seriously no other room option?"

I raised an eyebrow, mirroring his sentiment. "This is not how I imagined my vacation starting."

"I deeply apologize. Unfortunately, due to the resort's full capacity for the holiday season, we don't have anything available," Miss Shelby explained, her fingers nervously tapping the keyboard.

"Great. Just great." I ran a hand through my hair, my shoulders tensing as Mark's harassment, sudden wealth anxiety, and now this accommodation disaster threatened to crush my dream vacation before it began.

I'd been Ginger Lawson, single mom and administrative assistant for seven years.

Now I was Ginger Lawson, lottery winner and apparently still unlucky when it came to vacations.

"What do you suggest?" Mr. Reed asked Miss Shelby, his tone measured. Everything about him screamed money and influence —from his casually expensive ski attire to his commanding presence.

"Mr. Reed, I sincerely apologize for this oversight," Miss Shelby replied, her anxiety palpable. "As one of our most valued guests—"

"It's Tyler," he corrected with a slight edge to his voice. "And that doesn't answer my question." The boy hovering nearby—his son, judging by the same intense blue eyes and confident posture—shifted uncomfortably.

She hesitated. "The Crystal Suite is our largest accommodation, with two separated bedroom wings. If you were willing to... share the common spaces..."

I let out a laugh that sounded like a dying cat. "Share? With a stranger?" Even if he was a stranger who smells of expensive cologne and looks like he'd walked straight off a romance novel cover.

Tyler Reed and I exchanged incredulous looks. "Share?" I echoed, hardly able to keep the disbelief out of my voice.

"This is unacceptable," he muttered, raking a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "I specifically booked that suite for privacy." He glanced at me with a frown. "No offense."

"None taken," I replied. "I feel exactly the same way’”

"I understand your frustration," Miss Shelby said, her professional smile straining. "But I'm afraid with the holiday rush, there simply aren't any other options. Not here or at any resort on the mountain."

I bit my lip, calculating my ridiculous options.

Driving back down the treacherous mountain road in the dark with a disappointed child, trying to explain why the vacation I'd impulsively booked with lottery money was over before it began or sharing a suite with Mr. Blue-Eyes-and-Broad-Shoulders who acts like he owns the place.